Nick C. Varney

Once the dipnetting for reds took off this summer, I starting receiving requests for some tips on how to fillet a fish without turning it into something more suitable for stew or soup.

It is astounding how many processing challenged individuals you’ll find chopping away at carcasses splayed out on cleaning tables with everything from dull pen knives to implements more suitable for logging.

I usually don’t fish on the weekends because it’s a great time to cruise the river accesses and The Spit to determine what’s being nailed, where and how, while listening to “scout’s honor” tales told ’round the cleaning tables.

Besides, being the size of a mutant Wookie, it would take a majorly modified shoehorn to fit me into some of my favorite spots when the hordes descend on the Kenai.

Last Saturday was a prime example of The Spit and its infamous fishing lagoon returning to the days when parking spaces and elbow room were at a premium.

Everyone has their opinion of when spring finally announced its royal presence. Anxious gardeners started scraping aside indolent wisps of minuscule snow berms dawdling beneath the limbs of shrubs probing for a struggling sprout of greenery. If successful, numerous fanatics went storm trooper and invaded any nearby box store hyping flats of young flowers.